throbbing pain subsided. “Go on and leave without us, Rico. I’ll pick up the Cav from the impound lot.”
“All right then,” he said as he hefted his jacket over one shoulder. “I’ll check up on that guy who sprung us, maybe see if there’s anything more about those bodies we saw on the news.”
“What bodies?” Paige asked.
“Let’s get away from here before the cops change their minds.”
The village of Cahokia was a flat collection of squat buildings and wide streets. There didn’t seem to be much to look at under the best circumstances, and even less to catch the eye once the sun was down. A few streaks of light colored the sky’s lower edge, but it wouldn’t be long before darkness claimed Missouri. The cab arrived quickly, and when it did, Cole sat with his wallet, spare change, cell phone, and watch wrapped up in a plastic bag on his lap. His spear lay on the seat beside him, still in its harness and labeled with a tag from the police department, which he pulled off and tossed onto the floor. There was a lot to tell Paige, but he didn’t want to get too involved with the cab driver less than three feet away. When he looked over to her, she was already showing him a tired half grin.
“I missed you,” she said.
“Really? I thought you’d chew me out for getting locked up.”
“I will later. Right now, I’m just glad you’re out.”
“Some guy named Velasco arranged it. He says we owe him big-time, but the cops were glad to be rid of us after what happened while we were in there.” Again Cole looked toward the driver’s seat and cut himself off before finishing his story. “How’s your arm?”
She shrugged. “A little better.”
It was a short ride to the impound lot, and when they arrived, Cole was handed the keys to the Cav and a slip of paper that read PAID IN FULL. “Damn,” he grumbled. “Looks like we really do owe that Velasco guy.”
Once they got to the spot where the Cav was parked, Paige looked the car over from front to back. Her mechanical expertise wasn’t extensive enough for her to guess how much repairs might cost, but she’d been with the old rust bucket long enough to know what damage was new and what had been written off as “charming imperfections” long ago. While she completed her inspection, Cole sifted through his plastic bag to make sure all of his stuff was accounted for. Once his phone was turned on, several missed calls and text messages blinked to his attention. Most of the calls had been from the MEG guy, Stu, and all of the voice mails, asking why he wasn’t answering his phone. Paige slid in behind the Cav’s wheel and prepared to turn the key in the ignition.
“If it doesn’t work, can we scrap her and get a new one?” Cole asked.
Paige gritted her teeth, turned the key, and smiled when the engine rattled to life. “No such luck.”
After settling into the passenger seat, he pressed redial on his most recent Missed Call notice.
“MEG Branch 40,” Stu said after one and a half rings.
“Are you stalking me?” Cole asked.
“Have you been on the trail of something? Is it another Chupacabra? Why did you take Abby on that hunt and not me?”
“Didn’t your parents ever give you the Talk?”
“Romance aside, we’re on the same team,” Stu grumbled.
“What’s so important that you had to call me a thousand times?”
“I got somewhere on that research you asked about. Did you open those pics I sent?”
After sifting through the text messages, Cole found the ones with attachments. “Not yet. What are they?”
“Etchings and paintings of various temples found all across the world that share certain structural similarities.”
“A-frames?”
“Yep,” Stu replied. “Or the ancient equivalent. And they’re always described as colorfully painted to match local flowers, the morning sky, or flowing wine.”
“So…purple.”
“Right again. There were always inscriptions along the outer perimeter of the temples, but the stranger thing is that nobody seems to know who these temples were built for. Most of the texts just say they were discovered in good condition and filled with offerings. The only statuary or murals on the walls are of your generic sort of magical creatures and beautiful women. The pics I found are all over the place stylistically. Renaissance, Christian influenced, Hindu, Slavic, you name it.”
“What about nymphs?” Cole asked.
Stu groaned. “You can imagine what I found on a Net search for that one. We have access to more specialized libraries, but didn’t find much apart from the typical stuff. Nymphs are all very pretty. They like to dance in the forest. Big-time party girls.”
“Have you gotten any more reports from other Skinners about them?”
After a few taps on his keyboard, Stu told him, “There were a few recent ones, but they were mainly complaints about how you and Paige let that one go in Wisconsin.”
“You mean Tristan.”
The mention of that name caused Paige to tap Cole’s shoulder. “What about Tristan?” she asked.
Rather than hold a conversation on two fronts, Cole waved impatiently toward the road just beyond the lot’s fence. She took the hint and drove for the gate amid a series of loud rattles and screeching belts. Apparently, slapping against the side of a bus didn’t do the Cav any favors.
“Is Paige with you?” Stu asked. “Tell her hi. And yeah, it was Tristan. After that first sighting, all the others have been watching her. She’s not causing any problems, but she’s been moving around quite a bit. She was seen in Boston, Jersey, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Missouri, and several different spots in California. Huh. Our records might be a little off, because it says she was seen in L.A. and Cincinnati on the same day within a span of a few hours.”
“Can nymphs really fly or something?”
“Not as far as we know, but most of the paintings and mythological references show them with wings. Even the wingless ones depict nymphs floating through the air.”
“Thanks, Stu. You did a great job.”
“Be sure to check the base of the next purple A-frame you find. If there’s writing or arcane symbols etched close to the earth on an outside wall, you’ve got yourself a temple. Those symbols, the color, and the shape of the structure are the only constants. One of my books says that the A shape can channel, focus, and disperse energy. I had to do a lot more digging, but these particular structures are tied in to a ton of ancient pagan rituals involving primal energies and mystical power sources. Do you know what lay lines are?”
“No.”
“Good, because these aren’t the same thing. Abby and I had a big throw-down about that. Lay lines are thought to be sources of natural energy that can be tapped for power. These structures are meant to amplify mystical energies, boost them, and even store it up for later.”
“Is there a way to detect that kind of energy?”
As Stu paused to think about that, Paige finished haggling with the attendant of the municipal lot regarding the difference between an impound fee and an additional fine for driving a car that no longer conformed to Missouri safety regulations. Recognizing a losing battle when she was in one, she handed over the money and set the Cav loose upon the world again.
They were tearing toward the highway when Stu said, “If this sort of energy registers on the electromagnetic spectrum, I suppose the meters we use in our ghost hunts could pick it up. We should be able to modify the same equipment to pick it up but I’d need to be there to take the readings. Think you could give me an exclusive?”
“Hold on,” Cole said as he gripped the dashboard. “I’m about to get into my second wreck this week and I think Paige is flipping off a Denny’s.”
“Just relax,” Paige said. “You busted out the blinkers on this side so I’ve got to use hand signals.”
“Did you signal that last turn before almost sideswiping that Taurus?”
Lying on her horn in response to the wail from the other car, Paige said, “No.”
“Then bring it down a notch!” Once he’d caught his breath, Cole put the phone back to his cheek. “So where does this energy come from?”
“Any number of places. There’s rituals and of course mystical creatures or spirits. I wouldn’t have more of an answer to that until I knew what sort of energy it was, which is where my proposed field trip comes in. How’s this weekend sound?”
